


A Rebel's Spirit

by AnAntTM



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Awakening (Persona), Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14408025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAntTM/pseuds/AnAntTM
Summary: A trip to Shujin Academy goes to shit as Akira and Ryuji find themselves in the Metaverse, becoming prisoners to Kamoshida's knights. When all seems bleak... a thief presents himself.





	A Rebel's Spirit

Life’s a bitch. How could it all have ended up like this..?

A simple trip to school. That’s all this had been; his first day to Shujin Academy… and here he was, his life in control by a demented PE teacher in his boxer briefs.

The knights had turned their attention to the blond haired boy, Akira thought his name was “Sakamoto” or something; likely due to the man in the bathrobes touting himself as a king hated the blond boy much more than Akira. Sakamoto crawled on the ground after having been attacked.

"Where's your energy from earlier?" The “king” proceeded to kick the helpless Sakamoto in the gut, producing a groan of pain from the former. "I'll have you killed right now."

"Have you lost your mind!?" Akira retorted. Any movements he tried to make were restrained, as the knights pushed him back with their iron grip on his body. 

"Wha? Don't you dare tell me you don't know who I am?" Leans in, smirking. "That look in your eyes irritates me!” A strong, kick to the gut sent Akira tumbling backwards to the ground, he hit the wall with a loud ‘thud!’ “Hold him there… After the peasant, it’s his turn to die.”

Akira was pressed against the wall by the Shadows, as Sakamoto pleaded for his life; the “king” simply laughs at the blond boy, with a stupid grin on his face. He hated it. Oh so much.

The boy’s vision began to cloud up, everything had gone dark for a moment. A voice whispered into his thoughts, soon followed by a light blue butterfly, flapping its wings around him. 

“This is truly an unjust game… Your chances of winning are almost none. But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you…”

Yet another voice, this time much deeper in tone, almost condescending in its nature. Despite it all… the voice almost called out to him, beckoning for him to listen to what it had to say.

“What’s the matter…? Are you simply going to watch? Are you forsaking him to save yourself? Death awaits him if you do nothing. Was your previous decision a mistake then?”

In that moment… the memory that haunted him more than any nightmare ever could. He saw the face of a helpless woman, screaming for help, begging for anyone to save her… then a flash to a man, with malice and hatred in his gaze, his hand raised to cover a newly-formed gaping wound. Had it… had it been a mistake to save her? He had suffered so much… his own parents abandoned him, society had cast him as a criminal, and peers spread rumors about their safety near him.

… But, he had saved her. He’d helped someone, even if the consequences had been out of his favor. /That/ wasn’t a mistake. It couldn’t be. 

“… It wasn’t.” His mind was made up. There was no backing down now. 

The Shadow holds Sakamoto, by the throat, up against the wall; the sword now raised, ready to impale him.

A sharp, bitter pain coursed through his body; he writhed in agony, yelping in submission as his head fell down. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. The deep, condescending voice returned in his thoughts, this time it sounded much more bitter… though not at him, it seemed. 

“Very well… I have heeded your resolve.”

The voice continued, almost shouting into his ear as it spoke. “Vow to me. I am thou, thou art I… Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice! Call upon my name, and release thy rage! Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own though thou be chained to Hell itself!”

Akira’s gaze slowly began to raise, the pain now having dulled down. Or had he simply grown accustomed it, allowing the pain to fuel his hatred or his desire to cast down his enemies? 

If only looks could kill, Kamoshida would be dead where he stood.

Kamoshida raised his hand to give the order to execute Sakamoto.

“That’s enough.” Akira called out, his voice stood firm.

“What was that…?” All eyes were on Akira now, as the Shadow slowly released its grip on Sakamoto (who promptly fell to the ground below). “You desire to be killed that much…? Fine!” The knight was given an order… and Akira was smacked head first by a heavy, metal shield. His glasses promptly fell off to the side. 

Everything had gone hazy, his eyes fell shut… and the next thing he knew, and the knights had their lances against his neck. He could feel the cool, icy chill of metal pressing against his neck… they were suffocating him, trying to cause his last moments to be full of pain and anguish. No… this couldn’t be the end. It couldn’t end like this…. It wouldn’t end like this.

… And that was when it happened. As the knight raised his blade, Akira’s eyes violently opened as an aggressive force pushed everyone away from him. When it had all stopped, a white mask with black slits for his eyes had appeared. When did this get here…?

His instincts told him to pull the mask off, but that was a task easier said than done. Mustering all of his strength, he gripped the mask as hard as he could, ripping it off with the sound of tearing flesh. A loud, shriek of pain escaped his lips, as his face had now become covered in his own blood. But that didn’t faze him. Soon, rush of adrenaline and power began to course through his body, erupting into a flurry of blue flames that encapsulated his entire body… but not before flashing yet another face of cruel intent at his captors.

Embracing the flames, he felt free, rejuvenated. He was no longer Akira Kurusu, the “troubled” boy who had been convicted for crimes he never committed… he had the power to stop anyone that got in his way.

As the flames began to part, there was a loud, clanking sound. Almost like that of metal chains bashing together. The spirit of rebellion coursed through him, unleashing his inner might: a figure materialized through the flames, looking like a… fallen angel mixed with a thief, much like Lucifer wearing an ascot.

“What the…?” Sakamoto’s mouth hung wide open, looking with intense disbelief. He slowly crawled back out of fear of… whatever the hell just happened with Akira.

“I am the pillager of Twilight – Arsene! I am the rebel’s soul that resides within you. If you so desire, I shall consider granting you the power to break through this crisis.”

“Give me your power.” Without even a moment’s hesitation, Akira had made his decision. 

“Hmph, very well…” Arsene retorted, his voice almost sounded like he was cackling in the thoughts of enjoying what was about to unfold. 

“Who the hell are you…!?” Shaking his shock, Kamoshida ordered the knights to attack Akira; their bodies convulsed, turning into red and black amalgamations before revealing their true forms as Jack-O-Lanterns. “You’ll learn the true strength of my men!” The Shadows lunged.

“Detest the enemies before you! Change that animosity into power… and unleash it!”

With a small, makeshift dagger in his hand, limitless power in the other, and an unruly sense of vengeance and pent-up aggression in his system, Akira couldn’t help but smirk. This whole thing was so damn funny. 

Well, as they say:  
Let the show begin.


End file.
